I'll Be Seeing You
by Girl in a White Dress
Summary: No one ever really dies at the Centre. Someone from Jarod's past is back, and knows exactly how to hurt him. Post-IOTH. Character death.


Title: I'll Be Seeing You

Author: Melanie-Anne

Email: melani_anne@yahoo.com 

Rating: PG

Summary: No one ever really dies at the Centre. Someone from Jarod's past is back, and knows exactly how to hurt him. Post-IOTH. Character death.

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, no money is being made and no infringement is intended. "I'll Be Seeing You" is sung by Bing Crosby.

A/N: Thanks to Nancy for the speedy beta job.

~*~*~*~

__

the ghost

She is lovely in the moonlight. Her skin is pale—translucent, almost—and for a moment he is tempted to let her be. To do what he plans to do to something so magnificent seems sinful.

Then again, he is a sinner.

He approaches the bed slowly; surprised that she doesn't sense his presence. Maybe he really is a ghost.

She moves in her sleep, the covers slipping to reveal almost-bare shoulders. He is tempted again; he wants to touch her. He wants to touch her the way he knows the pretender has not touched her. He knows it is one of the many ways he can hurt the other man, but thinks that somehow it won't be as satisfying as killing her. He has plenty of time though, and no one would ever have to know.

He smiles and tugs the sheet lower, pleased to see that her top has ridden up and bared her smooth, flat stomach. He reaches out, his fingers stopping just short of making contact with her flesh. Dare he do it?

Her phone rings and he pulls his hand back, quickly taking a bottle out of his pocket and pouring a small amount of liquid onto a handkerchief. Her eyes flutter open and she starts to sit. Before she can reach her phone, he is on top of her, pressing the handkerchief over her mouth and nose. She struggles against him, fighting like a wildcat, but he does not release her even when she scratches his cheek.

There is a flicker of recognition in her eyes, followed by fear. Good. He smiles again. 

The phone is still ringing. He glances at the clock on her bedside table. 3:12 a.m. Only one person could possibly be calling at this hour.

She ceases struggling, growing limp beneath him as the chloroform takes effect. He reaches for the phone and knows it is a weakness in him that makes him want to taunt the caller. He does not care. He is the victor in this game.

"Hello, Jarod," he says.

__

the pretender

"Hello, Jarod. Say bye-bye to your Miss Parker." A laugh, then a click.

Jarod is too stunned to react and stares at the phone for an eternity. He knows the voice and admits that he is truly scared for Miss Parker's life. He dials the number again, but this time it just rings and rings. He tries the house phone and gets the answering machine.

If he drives quickly, he can make it to her house in an hour. He gets dressed; pausing only to make sure his gun is loaded. In a minute he is in his car and on his way. Miss Parker needs him and he cannot let her down.

He runs a red light and is annoyed when he hears a police siren and sees blue lights flashing behind him. He does not have time to waste and wonders why the police have nothing better to do at this hour of the morning. He pulls over and opens the glove compartment. A badge from a recent pretend is there; good, he can use it.

"Detective Doyle," he says, and garbles a story that barely makes sense. The officer apologizes and Jarod speeds off.

What have these precious minutes cost Miss Parker? He pushes the thought aside, picturing her smiling face instead. Then he wonders if he'll ever see her smile again and his fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

Her house is dark when he finally arrives. He takes a flashlight from the trunk of his car and has to force himself to go inside. He does not know what he will find and closes his eyes, trying to preserve the image of her smile. He takes a deep breath and pushes the front door open.

He checks all the rooms on the ground floor before slowly heading upstairs. The third step from the top creaks under his weight and he freezes; the sound is too loud in the otherwise quiet house.

The bedroom is empty. He is too late. There is something on the bed. When he gets closer, he sees it is a lock of her hair. He picks it up and holds it to his cheek. It is soft and smells like apple.

He sits on the bed, his other hand running across the cool sheets. Too late, she is long gone. He buries his face in her pillow and tries not to cry.

__

the ghost

Sometimes it's too easy, he thinks. But this is only the beginning. He looks at his sleeping passenger and smiles. She is still in her pajamas. He would have dressed her properly but he has decided he likes looking at her. Maybe he will take some photographs to remember this night.

He parks the car and leans over to unbuckle her seatbelt. He picks her up and starts walking. The moonlight is bright enough for him to see without a flashlight. She is soft and warm in his arms and a shiver of excitement runs down his spine. There is nothing like the thrill of the kill.

He reaches the clearing and lays her down, glad he had the foresight to prepare the site earlier in the day. He pulls his camera out of his bag and starts snapping pictures. Some are for the pretender, the rest he will keep. In a few months' time, he will come back and take more pictures for the pretender's collection. He will keep coming back until there is nothing left, or until he gets bored. There is more than one way to destroy a pretender, he thinks with a smile.

He places a kiss on her lips. A last kiss. Then he puts a board over the wooden box and picks up a shovel.

__

angel

It is cold and dark. She tries to sit and hits her head. When she raises her hand to feel the bump, she scratches her elbow. Slowly, cautiously, she tests how much space she has. Not a lot, she discovers, and calls for help. She bangs the roof with the palms of her hands and keeps screaming until her throat is raw. The dust makes her cough, and she freezes.

Dust?

She realizes that she is covered with dust and can feel dirt lining the surface she lies on. She is suddenly glad it is too dark to see anything. Buried alive! She's been buried alive!

She is going to die and there is nothing she can do about it. She is surprised to find, now that the initial panic has all but passed, how much she wants to live.

__

the pretender

Jarod jerks awake with the barrel of a gun pressed against his temple, and is horrified that he fell asleep. He looks up at the man holding the weapon and wonders how much worse things could possibly get.

"What are you doing here?"

He doesn't know how to tell Lyle that his sister is probably dead. He doesn't know if it will even matter to him.

"I don't have all day, Jarod. Where is she?"

"Alex has her." He is surprised when Lyle lays the gun on the bedside table.

"Alex? The same Alex who kidnapped our fath—Mr. Parker?"

He nods, and shows Lyle the lock of hair. "I was too late." He pauses, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "What are you doing here?"

Lyle shrugs and a peculiar expression crosses his face. When he speaks again, there is a new tone in his voice. He sounds almost concerned. "I couldn't sleep. I had a funny feeling about her so I drove over."

"Since when do you care?" Jarod can't help asking.

Another strange look on Lyle's face. "She's my sister."

He doesn't believe it's that simple, but before he can form a reply, Miss Parker's phone rings. He looks at Lyle, and answers.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Jarod. I thought you'd be there. I've left a little something for you at the front door. Have fun."

A click, and Alex is gone. Jarod drops the phone and runs downstairs, two steps at a time. He pulls the front door open and sees a large white envelope lying on the doormat. He picks it up and empties it on the dining room table. There are photographs and a note. His knees feel weak and he wants to vomit.

According to the note, Miss Parker has enough oxygen to last six hours. He wants to believe it—he wants to hope that he will see her again. But he wonders how true it is, and knows it is better if she is already dead. He does not want her to suffer.

"Why is he going to all this trouble?" Lyle asks.

"I don't know." He lies. He knows it is because Alex is sick, and because making him think he has a chance to save her and not being able to, is worse than killing her outright.

He also knows that Alex has no intention of letting her be found.

__

angel

She wishes it weren't so cold, and wonders how much time she has . . . wonders if anyone knows she's missing . . . wonders why he didn't just kill her . . . why he chose her when his grudge is against Jarod. She thinks about the look on Jarod's face when he pleaded with her to let him go, to take a turning point, thinks about the near-kiss and shivers. She knows why he chose her.

It doesn't matter if she cries now, no one will ever know. She figures that it's okay to be weak when you're dying, and wishes she'd been weaker when she'd had the chance. Wishes she'd been nicer to the people she cared about. Wishes she'd told them that she cares, and hopes they know.

She wishes she could say sorry.

She hears a hissing noise and wonders if it's gas. She scratches at the roof again and doesn't feel her nail tearing. She coughs, certain that he's going to poison her. Right now she wants nothing more than to breathe fresh air and feel the breeze on her face. Surely it can't end like this, she thinks. What about the scrolls? What about the legacy that is supposed to start with her?

Would this have happened if she'd taken the turning point Jarod had offered only a few short months ago?

Her efforts are useless and she drops her arms, hugging herself in attempt to keep warm. She realizes that the gas is odorless, and that she is still able to breathe.

Oxygen! The bastard has given her oxygen! He is drawing this out, making her suffering last longer.

Her scream this time is not one of fear, but of frustration and anger.

__

the ghost

He walks into the diner as if he does not have a care in the world. Sitting at the counter, he orders a cup of coffee and pancakes. It is just past 7:00 a.m. She has five hours left. 

He smiles at the pretty waitress and decides to give her a big tip. She smiles back.

"It's going to be a beautiful day, don't you think?" he says.

__

the pretender

"I thought Alex was dead," Lyle says.

"You know better than anyone that no one really dies at the Centre." He knows he sounds bitter and childish but he doesn't care. Only one thing matters now.

"Can you find her?"

Jarod wonders again why Lyle cares, and turns to stare at him. There is nothing in his body language to suggest he has a hidden agenda but he is hesitant to trust him. Lyle has hurt him before.

"I would think this is the perfect opportunity for you to take control of the Centre. She's out of the picture and you've got me."

Lyle smiles. It is so similar to Miss Parker's smile that Jarod feels something stab at his heart.

"My life does not revolve around you, Jarod. Believe it or not." He walks over to the mantelpiece to pick up a photograph of Catherine Parker. "Did you know she wanted to leave?"

For a moment, Jarod thinks he is referring to the woman in the picture, but Lyle continues.

"She just wanted to be left alone. She said she wouldn't fight me for chairmanship if I left her in peace." He pauses. "And if I called off the search for you."

Jarod is too shocked to say anything. He sits numbly in one of the chairs and picks up one of Alex's photographs. He looks at Miss Parker lying in a coffin and knows that he'll be lost if he doesn't find her.

It is just after 7:00 a.m.

__

angel

She wonders how long it's been. The nail she tore earlier is throbbing now, and she is glad of the pain. Glad that she is still able to feel. If she can feel, it means she's alive.

She doesn't know if that's necessarily a good thing right now.

She hates lying on her back, but there is no room to move. Her muscles are starting to cramp. She points and flexes her feet; a half-remembered exercise from childhood ballet classes.

Save your strength, she thinks, and then wonders why. She won't need it. No one is coming for her.

She laughs out loud and likes the sound. Maybe she'll feel better if she sings something. She remembers a record her mother used to play. Remembers warm Sunday afternoons, just the two of them.

"I'll be seeing you . . . in all the old familiar places . . ."

__

the pretender

"Maybe she's already dead. Maybe he just wants me to think she's alive." Jarod paces up and down Miss Parker's living room carpet. Even as he speaks, he knows he's wrong. He is sure that if she were gone, he would feel it somehow.

He looks at Lyle. "What does your Inner Sense tell you?"

Lyle seems surprised that Jarod knows. "I don't know. I haven't been developing it."

"It woke you up in the middle of the night and brought you here!" Jarod sits down and runs his fingers through his hair. He knows the outburst is unnecessary, but will not apologize. He looks at his watch. It is 7:47 a. m.

The phone rings. He jumps up to answer it. "Hello!"

"She's photogenic, isn't she?"

His fingers grip the phone tighter. "You don't have to do this. Tell me where she is."

A laugh. "Have you thought about how important she is to you yet? The last time I saw you, you hadn't."

"Alex, please—" He has thought about it. It is all he thinks about.

"'Alex, please—'" The other voice mocks. "I kissed her goodbye for you. She has very soft lips."

Jarod clenches his free hand, his fingernails digging into his palm. "What do you want?"

The voice turns colder. "To beat you, just once."

Jarod closes his eyes and his voice is a whisper when he speaks again. "Tell me how to find her."

Another laugh, and, "No."

Jarod throws the phone across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the floor, broken. He grabs his car keys and storms out of the house. He doesn't care where he goes, but he can't just sit around and wait for her to die.

__

angel

Maybe this is a Centre plot, she thinks. Because she wants to leave.

No, the Centre would just use bullets. This is too elaborate.

She is irrationally cross with Jarod; angry that she is important enough to use against him. She hasn't seen him since he escaped the airplane in Morocco, and suddenly wishes that she had gone with him.

She wipes her tears away with her uninjured hand. Jarod will not let this rest and it breaks her heart.

She is going to die in the middle of nowhere, alone, and for no reason except the whim of a madman. It makes no sense. There is no point. She hopes she will be missed. She hopes she will not be forgotten.

The darkness is too much. She has never liked the dark; it is why she sleeps with open curtains. The moonlight makes her feel safe, and she likes looking at the stars.

She can't control her tears and even though she knows it's useless, she fights her prison again. She beats the walls and the roof and screams and cries and hates her helplessness. Her finger throbs and her head aches, and she can't decide if the hunger or thirst is worse. Her throat is raw from screaming. She tries to sing again, but her voice is no more than a raspy whisper.

"I'll be seeing you . . ."

__

the pretender

'To beat you, just once.'

Alex's words run around and around in Jarod's head. He should have killed him when he had the chance, but then, Alex has a knack for cheating death.

This desire to spill blood scares him. When Kyle died, he hadn't wanted to kill Lyle. Kyle had been his brother, but he'd still been a stranger. Miss Parker . . . she was his life.

She was the first person who hadn't cared that he was a genius. She'd been a breath of fresh air in his life and had made him dream of a life of freedom . . . of a life outside, away from simulations and tests and the Centre. He wonders if things would be different if she had chosen the different ending he'd offered her at the airport.

He realizes that he's thinking of her in the past tense and hates himself for it.

She will not forgive him if he gives up on her now.

__

the ghost

9:00 a. m.

He thinks enough time has passed between phone calls. What will he tell Jarod now?

"The number you have dialed is not in service—" He hangs up and tries another number, and smiles.

"How do you think she's doing?"

"Alex—"

"You know where she is." This is fun, he thinks. He should have done it long ago.

"No, I don't."

"Of course you do. Think out of the box, Jarod." He smiles, pleased with his pun. "Use your imagination. That is, assuming you still have one."

He hangs up and looks at Catherine Parker's grave. A frown crosses his face; he is not one of the children she tried to save. It occurs to him that this may be part of the reason he hates Jarod.

He places a shoebox at the base of the headstone and lays a flower on top of it. "Let's see if your genius is really so smart."

Half an hour later, he phones Jarod again.

"Have you thought about how you're going to break the news to her mother?"

__

the pretender

Jarod crosses the freshly cut grass and stops a few feet from Catherine Parker's grave. He sees the shoebox, painted to resemble Miss Parker's makeshift coffin.

He kneels and removes the lid. There are more photographs, most look like printouts from Centre surveillance videos. Him and Miss Parker. Sharing that sweet, first kiss. Sitting side by side in one of the hallways. Meeting Angelo.

He picks up a photograph of Catherine Parker lying on the floor of an elevator. 

These are not clues to help him find Miss Parker. Alex is simply taunting him. He drops the flower into the box and puts the lid back on.

It is 10:15 a. m.

__

angel

She contemplates prayer. At this point she's not sure it will even make a difference and her list of sins is so long, she'll probably still be confessing until the oxygen runs out. The thought brings a smile to her face. She thinks it's a good thing that she can still find humor in things.

She misses her mother.

"It'll be okay, baby girl."

"Mama?" She remembers the nickname from when she was very young. She'd been Daddy's angel and Mama's baby girl.

"I'm right here."

"Mama, I've missed you so much." Some part of her still remembers her mother is dead. She doesn't care. It doesn't matter anymore.

"I'm disappointed in you."

"Mama?" No, this is wrong. This is not how the conversation is supposed to go.

"What you let them do to Jarod—"

"I didn't . . . What are you talking about?" She cries now, reaching out in the dark for her mother.

"I'm ashamed of you."

"Mama?" Silence. "Mama?"

She prefers the voice, even though she knows it isn't real.

She doesn't want to be alone.

__

the pretender

"Jarod, please help me!"

She sounds so real that he looks around, expecting to see her right next to him. But there's no one, of course.

He wonders if he's losing his mind.

He opens the box again and looks at the flower. He's seen this flower before, when he was a boy. When he was taken to see Catherine Parker after she'd supposedly died.

Picking up the box, he runs to his car and throws it on the passenger seat. He knows where she is and there is just enough time to get to her.

__

the ghost

He returns to where he buried her. It is almost noon and he wants to be here when the oxygen runs out. Part of the thrill is being present for the death.

He sits on a rock and waits. Nothing can possibly spoil this moment. He is confident the pretender is too distracted to pick up on his clue. Sometimes he amazes even himself; the flower was inspired, really.

Maybe one day he will give Jarod the exact location, when there is nothing left to find but bones. He smiles and raises his face to the sunlight. She's lucky to die in such a beautiful spot.

The bullet catches him by surprise and he slowly topples to the ground. He looks up and realizes he's underestimated the pretender. It doesn't matter anymore. Everything is suddenly so clear; the blades of grass are in sharp focus. The colors are so bright. There is surprisingly little pain.

He hears another bullet and then . . . 

Nothing.

__

angel

The hissing stops and the fear and panic return. She doesn't want it to end this way. She refuses to die like this and beats at the roof again, sobbing.

This isn't right. There is so much she still wants to do. She can't stop shaking and swipes angrily at the tears pouring down her cheeks.

She hears scraping and a flicker of hope sparks to life. 

"Hey! Hey! I'm in here!" She bangs at the roof with her fists.

Light peeks through the cracks in the wood. She wonders if it is Alex and prepares to fight him.

The roof of her prison lifts and she springs out, ignoring the pain in her muscles as she lashes out at him. She can't see, it's too bright.

"Miss Parker, it's me. You're safe. It's okay."

She recognizes the voice and sinks to her knees. He found her. She's safe.

"Jarod—" She reaches out blindly. When his hands meets hers, she pulls him towards her, scared she's hallucinating again.

He feels real. She has no voice left to thank him and sobs into his chest.

"I'm sorry, Parker," he says. "I'm so sorry." His words sound choked, and she raises her hand to his face, startled to find his cheek wet with tears.

He picks her up and enough of her vision has returned for her to see Alex lying dead on the grass. She doesn't want to think about him, and turns her head away.

He can't hurt her anymore.

__

the pretender

Jarod puts her down when they reach the car, surprised when she clings to him. He helps her into the passenger seat after throwing the shoebox into the back. Despite the warm breeze, she shivers and he gives her his jacket.

She tries to say something but only manages a garbled croak. He hands her a bottle of mineral water and cautions her to sip. Big gulps will make her nauseous.

He is silent on the drive to the hospital. Aware of her eyes on him, he risks a glance at her and is glad to see her smile. She does not look away.

He does not leave her side once she is admitted; he cannot. She has not taken her eyes off him and he knows there are many things that need to be said. When the doctor leaves the room, he climbs up onto the bed with her and holds her. "I'm sorry."

Everything about this moment scares him: how fragile she looks, the IV in her arm, the bandage on her hand, the warmth of her body against his . . . the look in her eyes.

The depth of his feeling for her.

He gets his earlier wish; she's smiling.

He waits until she's asleep before taking out his cell phone. "Lyle, it's Jarod."

There is silence from the other end and he presses on, knowing Lyle is expecting bad news.

"I found her. She's alive."

"And Alex?"

"Dead." He glances down at Miss Parker and knows he'd do it again.

"How is she?"

"She'll be okay."

A sigh of relief. "Good . . . thank you, Jarod."

"She has a chance to be free . . ." He trails off, wondering if Lyle was honest with him earlier.

"I'll take care of it."

"Thank you." He hangs up. Lyle has everything he needs to make Raines believe she's dead: the photographs, the note, phone records and the lock of hair. He hopes Lyle will do the right thing.

__

angel

The doctors tell her she's going to recover completely. A pretty young nurse comes in to take the IV out of her arm. She wants to thank her, but it still hurts to talk. The nurse opens a shopping bag and lays some clothes on the bed.

"Your husband brought these for you."

She smiles and has no desire to correct the girl. She dresses and walks out into the hallway where Jarod is waiting. She takes his hand and they walk together out into the sunlight. He's told her what Lyle has done for her; one day she will thank him.

She climbs into the car and rolls down the window, wanting to feel the wind on her face. She keeps her hand on Jarod's leg as they drive; in the three days since her ordeal, they have constantly found small ways to touch each other. She notices Jarod does it more often, but then she finds herself looking at him almost all the time.

She's doing it now too, and smiles. She does not know where they are going but it doesn't matter. She wants to take this turning point. She knows she won't get another chance.

She thinks she'll be happy with this ending.

__

I'll find you in the mornin' sun

And when the night is new

I'll be looking at the moon

But I'll be seeing you . . .

~*~*~*~


End file.
